FR JOHN DOHERTY RIP – by Fr Paddy O’Kane.

His Youth

The year 1931 was one of social change with events such as the first steps to repeal prohibition in USA, Gandhi’s release from prison –again- and invitation to form a Peace Pact. The first plane to fly the pacific ocean. Stalin begins his five year plan and a short time later blows up the Cathedral of Christ the King in Moscow. European banks go bankrupt leading to world wide financial meltdown.

On 16th August that same year a baby boy, their only son was born into the home of Mary and Charles Doherty at 24 Lecky Road. The eldest in a family of five. Two days later he was taken to Long Tower Church by his aunt Bridget Doherty for baptism.

He went to Long Tower Boys School. As a young boy he loved to act the role of the priest, sometimes putting two chairs back to back to hear the confessions of the other children and sometimes pretending he was saying Mass using a brass teapot as a chalice. His mother thought he was too young and, as Fr John’s father was ill, asked him to postpone his wishes as she needed another breadwinner. For remember money was scarce and those were tough times in the heart of Derry’s Bogside. So he shelved his plans for the time being and John got a job working in the Derry Journal Office as a bookbinder. He also join the T.A. Band where he played the horn. Rosie Bradley, the gable wall of whose home just down the street at 33, Lecky Road became the iconic Free Derry Corner, said to me last night that if she and her girlfriends fell out John would act as peacemaker. ‘Our Rosie wants to know if you’re speaking to her yet…?’ he would come and shout in the door. Already he was full of the fun and devilment that would last his life, they said.

When he was 24 years of age all four of his sisters were working in the shirt factories and as his mother was now more financial secure he felt free at last to pursue his dream. A White Father, an African Missionary priest called Fr Brown, was a regular caller at the home and it was through him that John was invited to study for the priesthood in London. This was in 1955. His father died at the age of 56 in 1958 which John was still in training. On 29th June 1963 he was ordained priest in Blackthorn Co. Cavan.

Africa

Part two of Fr. John’s life takes us to his time in Zambia, Africa. Eddie McAfee who read the second lesson at his Requiem Mass in Holy Family church last Tuesday tells me this story that as part of a program mme called British Outreach to Developing Nations he was had arrived in Luwingu meaning ‘the place of the lions,’. He was a mathematics teacher and soon after his arrival he met Fr. John and they became lifelong friends – ‘the most decent human being I have ever met, so generous, so supportive, so kind. We had many adventures together. He kept in touch by letter when I returned home. It was a privilege to have known him’. He told me a story last night that Fr. John regularly told me. How he had difficulty with the local Bemba language. ‘Emfumu’ means ‘Lord’ which Fr John would often get wrong by saying ‘Emfubu’ which means ‘hippopotamus’. I have visited Kenya myself and have witnessed the great sense of humour of the African people. They would break their sides laughing when Fr John would say regularly at Mass ‘May the hippopotamus be with you’.

The Derry shirt-factory girls collected enough money to help him build a new church which I’m told he called ‘The Long Tower’ and a gold chalice. However a rival tribe was jealous and came and burned it to the ground on a Christmas morning while he was saying Mass. But Fr. John was undaunted and was soon back rebuilding it. Eddie also told me how happy Fr. John was there in Zambia waving him cheerio as he drove into the bush on his motorbike. He and his two fellow priests were known by the people as ‘The Holy Trinity’. Their mission there was so successful that soon the native priests were able to take over and their outreach moved elsewhere. Then he fell ill with malaria. The year was now 1975. Fr. John came home to live with his sister Betty in Foyle Springs , Derry . When he recovered he was given a placement in Scotland for a short time and then was asked to work in Britain promoting the Missions and fund raising. This did not suit his personality as Fr. John was happier giving money away than getting it in. He once told me how he ended up in Canada when I questioned him on this issue – leaving the heat of Africa for the cold of North America. And so begins the third chapter of Fr. John’s colourful life as a priest.

Canada

There was a Canadian bishop from the Diocese of Nelson who had been a generous supporter of their mission. It came to the bishop’s knowledge that Fr. John was unsettled in his vocation and so he offered him an appointment in his diocese which was way out in the Wild West beyond the Rocky Mountains. He accepted. There Fr. John soon made new friends because of his warm and friendly disposition and his ability ‘to talk the hind leg of a donkey’. He befriended a Buddhist community there and native Red Indians. . Fr. John was not a good car driver – in fact he never drove except in Canada -and one night, he told us, he ran into a large moose. He would sing ‘’The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’ to his nieces and nephews’ as children and now loved to regale them with stories about coming across real large grizzly bears in Canada’s wild. It was Apple Orchard Country- he just loved it and was very popular there. Fr. John became a Canadian citizen and returned to Ireland to retire in 2001. At this stage the fourth and final chapter of Fr. John’s life began.

Back Home Again

Chapter four. Last night after his remains arrived in the church I invited his family inside to the parochial house to have cup of tea and a chat to plan the funeral. When we finished we passed a lit candle around the room and those who wished were given a chance to say what Fr John meant to them. ‘He was always so giving, so kind, so grateful for the smallest blessing. He did all our baptisms and marriages’ said Grainne, his favourite niece – but then with that lovely mischievous glint in those deep blue eyes he told each of them in turn that she was his favourite! He delighted in recognising people from Lecky Road and Wellington Street wherever he went and had a great memory for names. Giving out Holy Communion he would add the person’s name. He would stop his homily and make comments like ‘I see Maggie Doherty down there from the Wells – Maggie, we go back a long time!’ He could even identify their children by their inherited facial features. ‘You must be Mary McLaughlin’s wee girl’ you could hear him say.

He once said to me ‘Fr Paddy, I came home to die, but you had other ideas’. Yes, Fr John had the same effect on me as he had on all who met him– you felt touched by his presence. For that was his gift. Presence. A priest at his ordination says ‘Adsum’ when summoned by the bishop. It means ‘I am here and present’… I come to do your will’. The Psalm you heard earlier sung by Holy Family Primary School has the words ‘Here I Am Lord’ that same theme of service and readiness to accept the challenge to build up the Kingdom of God. For Priesthood at its core is about witnessing- witnessing to a set of values that are different from the secular world, witnessing to the Kingdom of God where the first are last and the last first and where those at the margins take centre stage – that is what gives celibacy its meaning, renouncing wife, and children in order to give oneself more fully to that Kingdom and therein too is found the joy of priesthood.

‘Adsum’ means ‘send me wherever God’s will allows whether the jungles of Africa or the vast planes of British Columbia.’ I invited him to help out here at Holy Family and what a gift he has been to us all, what a blessing, what a honour to have been touched by his gentle grace! He was a man of great humility and always conscious of his own frailty, human weakness and brokenness. And so he walked with those recovering from addiction by befriending the residents of White Oaks Rehabilitation Centre; he was a compassionate confessor and also was the priest in our ‘Bureau De Prayer’ in Springtown Shopping Centre for many years, giving blessings and pardon to all who called to see him. At the same time he would be the first to say ‘please do not canonize me – just pray that my sins are forgiven.’ He never likes fuss.

Five years ago we had a party to celebrate his Golden Jubilee and what a night of fun and laughter we all had – a foretaste of what lies in store in the heavenly banquet when we hope to meet again all those we know and have loved again.[See photo of us both having a good laugh together.]

Last Christmas I went to see him and knowing his health was declining we agreed that I would come back and record the journey of his life. I will always regret that I left it too late as he has been plucked from our presence so unexpectedly. My last conversation with him was about an incident between him and my father. They had a special bond. My dad had the beginning of dementia and so one day Fr. John said ‘Dominic the clock has two hands, a long one and a short one. When the long one goes to the top it’s time for you to go out’. My father looked at him aghast ‘Fr John, I may be losing it but I’m not that far gone’ he replied. Well, the long hand of the clock will one day tell you and me our time has come too. The book of Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time for every season- a time to be born and a time to die, a time to hold onto life firmly with both hands and a time to let go and with total abandonment fall into the outstretched arms of our Heavenly Father. That time came for Fr. John last Sunday morning at 10.30am in the presence of his family. May his beautiful gentle soul rest in peace.